


Communion

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In my dreams I stop him before he shoots me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communion

In my dreams I stop him before he shoots me. I say the words he needs to hear or maybe he sees something in my eyes, something real and  
true, and instead of shooting me, he smiles.

He smiles and my face is no longer scarred and the perpetual ache in my shoulder is gone. I'm happy.

I'm. Happy.

Then I wake and the dream slips away.

And I'm not happy and he doesn't smile. He doesn't, not even after I fuck him, though he says he enjoys it. Of course he enjoys it; I make it good for him, make it good because I'm too weak to do anything else. I'm too weak to throw him out of bed.

Funny. I know he's not the least bit interested in men. I wonder what he thinks about when I fuck him? Does he blank his mind or think of  
women? Does he hate it when I make him whisper my name?

I wish he'd stay out of my bed. I wish I were strong enough to deny him.

I wish we would not try to extinguish each other.

*****

It's as easy as walking. He slips naked into bed and touches my cock. Instead of shoving him away, I run my thumb over his closed mouth. Easy.

*****

He closes he eyes when I fuck him, closes his eyes and makes a gasping sound. Is this his penance?

I want to say, 'Is this easier than blowing your brains out?'

I hate him.

Sometimes I hurt him; bruise his flesh or thrust so hard he cries out in pain. I want him to feel me afterward, when he's sitting in a meeting or working on a defunct piece of machinery. I want him to remember that I fucked him and that he let me, that he wanted me.

*****

Don't, don't, don't, don't. Why won't you go away? Stop. No more.

No.

More.

*****  
Avon is moaning into the pillow, his hands are open, pressing into the mattress as I slowly, slowly push into him.

'Blake,' he says, 'Blake,' and my name is ragged, muffled by the press of cotton.

If I could see his face, it would be red and sweaty, his eyes would be glazed and his mouth would be swollen. I would kiss him, it's the only time he lets me kiss him, and he'd respond with a sigh and a slight opening of his lips.

As it is, I kiss the back of his neck and thrust.

*****

Breathing.

Touch me. Breathe faster. Suck me. Breathe faster. Envelop me. Breathe faster.

Faster. Breathe.

Breathing.

*****

The skin of your belly is soft, your thighs, softer. I can feel the muscle underneath, the strength. You feel good. You feel clean. You feel natural.

*****

You are wrapped in my arms, your head tucked under my chin. I stroke your hair and stare up at the ceiling. I am aching, tired-- sated.

I ask you if this is hate.

You kiss the hollow of my throat and whisper, no.


End file.
